


Echoes and Re-Echoes

by QuickYoke



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Past Lives, Pining, Plot? What Plot?, Reincarnation, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6296527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickYoke/pseuds/QuickYoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time they're reborn, Severa is the only one who remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes and Re-Echoes

  

 

 

> _"…because I am made that way, because I am a bottomless well, full of echoes and re-echoes, unsoundable."_
> 
> _\- diary entry of Anaïs Nin (1914-1920)_

 

* * *

* * *

 

Sometimes she is called Severa. Sometimes Selena. Sometimes -- rarely -- even Serena. But Lucina is always the same, the lone immutable constant; Lucina is never-changing.

As far as she can tell, her own names work on a cycle of twos and threes, like clockwork. She can count back to different times, different lives, ticking each universe off on the tip of a finger until they seem to bleed into one another. Remembering is a trial by cacophony, an exercise in dissonance. She strains at distant notes like a hound for the scent. They come drifting back to her when she least expects it, never when she actually seeks them out. The recollections shock like an unwary touch; often they’re precipitated by a sight, a smell, but most of all a sound, a word, clicking at the backs of teeth and the tips of tongues like hardboiled candied sweetmeats.

“Severa!”

She jerks into the present, the sound of Lucina’s voice reeling her in like a lure. They’re not much more than children in this lifetime. Lucina takes to her father’s tutelage like a gull to the lofty skies. There is no war -- not for them, not yet -- and for once Lucina lacks the dark rings beneath her eyes, taut and haggard with enough stress, enough responsibility to give anyone else heart palpitations. Severa finds herself staring at this fresh-faced Lucina before she can stop herself.

“What?” Severa asks, more abrasive than she had intended.

If her surly tone does anything to dissuade Lucina it doesn’t show. “I asked if you could show me your mother’s Pegasus.”

Severa is about to snap at Lucina why she doesn’t just visit her own mother’s Pegasus, until she realises that in this timeline Lucina’s mother is Sully, not Sumia. Catching  herself, she grits her teeth and mutters a petulant, “Absolutely not.”

Regardless of the timeline, Cordelia is without fail insufferably perfect, and every time Severa is prone to bouts of bitter self-loathing where her mother is concerned. Cordelia’s only failing as far as she could tell is that she -- like everyone else -- doesn’t remember. The others Severa could excuse for not recognising her, but her own flesh and blood? Unforgivable. Severa is less harsh of her father; he changes so often she can never be sure who it will be next. Every time she tries not to get attached, but that for as long as she can remember has always been her greatest weakness - caring too much.

“Oh...Alright.” Lucina isn’t one to press about things like this, she never has been, but her crestfallen expression is enough to send Severa into a fleeting spiral of guilt.

With a dramatic sigh Severa pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ugh. Fine! Let’s go.”

Immediately Lucina brightens, and the breathy hopeful note in her voice is enough to make Severa’s ears ring. “Really?”

Severa arches an eyebrow. “You want to wait and see if I change my mind?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lucina reprimands with a light, airy laugh, but she still grabs a hold of Severa’s hand and begins dragging her away in the direction of the stables.

Even that small contact -- Lucina’s long calloused fingers sliding between her own -- is enough to make Severa’s stomach plummet, the rest of the world fading away into a noiseless static as Lucina brushes a rough thumb across the back of her knuckles and flashes a warm smile over her shoulder.

It’s so rare to see her like this, happy and carefree. Severa can’t deny her anything when she smiles.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The first time she sees Lucina is entirely uneventful.

She’s touring the grounds of the royal Ylissan palace with her mother -- Sumia, this first timeline that Severa can remember. Lucina doesn’t even seem to take notice of anyone else in spite of her mother’s attempts to encourage her to play with the Pegasus foals; she’s nine years old and far too engrossed in climbing a tree alone, blue cape snagging on wayward branches. Sumia just shakes her head with a soft smile and continues chatting with Cordelia, and all the while Severa stands on the sidelines watching Lucina clamber to the highest branches. Lucina is struck with bold flossy rays of sunlight until she is radiant, and Severa is haunted by the feeling of being just another unknown face in someone else’s grand story.

The first time they really meet each other is the second time they’ve seen one another. Outside it’s getting dark, and rain drums against the palace walls. Severa is almost ten years old and already she grumbles about her mother as she sharpens a dagger by torchlight. It’s a habit she picked up whenever bored and filled with a nervous sullen energy, honing the edge of Cordelia’s old dagger until she could use it to cut off her split ends. Fire-bright sparks spin onto the floor with every flick of the whetstone over the short blade. She sits alone in a far corner of the palace near one of the unused side exits that open up to the stables. Nobody ever comes around these parts in the last twilight witching hour of a stormy day, until Lucina tumbles through the iron-banded door, rainwater caught in her long hair and on the shoulders of her blue cloak like a shower of stars.

Hearing the creak of hinges Severa glances up, nearly knicking her finger with the dagger. Lucina brushes her hair back, a few dark strands sticking to her cheek. The wind picks up and rattles the door until Lucina shuts it firmly, latching it in place and looking over her shoulder at Severa with an apologetic smile.

Suddenly every noise scatters into the dark; suddenly the world shrinks down to this near empty room and its lone inhabitants; suddenly Lucina’s voice is the only sound she hears as she stands before her, awash all in warm silver from the rain-lashed windows. Blood roaring in her ears -- or maybe that’s the gale whistling beneath the eaves, across the toothy parapets -- Severa jumps to her feet to introduce herself before Lucina can even take a step forward.

 

* * *

* * *

 

They’re not much more than children and the world is crumbling all around them. The palace halls resound with the unearthly wails of an army of invading Risen, mingled with a hoarse snarl as Selena runs one of the creatures through the chest with her sword. She didn’t know she could make such sounds. If she’d had any sense of self-awareness in that moment she might have been appalled at how unladylike the whole scene is, but at that moment she only tugs her blade free and rounds upon another Risen, teeth bared, blood-splattered, and fierce.

With every swing of her sword the numbness only seems to build -- better that than the tears of desperation burning at the back of her throat ever since she saw Cordelia and the other Pegasus Knights fall to a tide of arrows that had blotted out the sky just hours previously. Her mother’s ring burns like a band of ice around one finger, and Selena dodges the blow of an axe, darting in close to slash with her sword.

They’re overrun. A few paces away she can see Inigo fending off three Risen, his face screwed up in a mixture of pain and determination as he favours his left leg, where an ugly wound blooms red and ragged. Clear across the throneroom Selena hears a guttural cry, and she glances out of the corner of her eye to see Lucina cleave a Risen nearly in two with a single powerful sweep of her father’s sword. There the blade sticks, biting into the gaping red ribcage, and Lucina furiously tries to wrench it free, panic sweeping over her as the Risen continues to claw at her vambraced forearms.

Selena steps in Lucina’s direction, but she’s too far; there’s a chaos of battle between them, and a shield slams into Selena’s side, sending her sprawling across the polished marble floor. She narrowly avoids a javelin to the gut, rolling to her side into a crouch. Through the mess of limbs, the honed flashes of metal, Selena can barely make out the image of Lucina clutching the side of her face, stemming a stream of blood while a Wyvern rider rears atop his mount over her.

Selena fights in a mad frenzy, but in the end Lucina saves herself. By some miracle they all manage to escape with their lives, but not even Brady’s healing could wipe away the three vertical scars from a Wyvern’s claw running in parallel down Lucina’s cheek.

 

* * *

* * *

 

She watches as some of the others become Lucina’s siblings. Lucina’s daughters. She dreads that one day this fate may befall her too, that she’ll be a sibling or a child burdened with the memories of previous lives in which she had loved Lucina as something more.

Thank the gods, that time never comes.

 

* * *

* * *

 

It only takes one glance at Lucina seated atop a throne to know that she belongs there. The sight makes Serena’s mouth go dry. Lucina lounges seamlessly upon the royal Ylissan seat, resplendent all in gilded armour. At first the Grand Chambrier had been adamant about dresses and heavy robes, but as soon as Lucina had begun eagerly adding her input concerning the royal wardrobe, the Grand Chambrier had blanched. After that Lucina only ever appeared at Court in amour. Whispers and malevolent gossip flit from noble to noble, but none save Lucina’s close friends and retainers could have guessed that the severe militance of the Exalt’s wardrobe is due to Her Royal Highness’ complete lack of fashion sense.

The morning -- as with most mornings -- is filled with daily petitions from constituents. A line of gentry and commoners alike, both foreign and not, stretches through the throneroom and out the great doors. Lucina sighs, leaning her elbow atop an ornate armrest, and from her place flanking the throne Serena can see the nobleman falter in delivering his petition, gaze darting nervously from the Exalt’s inscrutable expression to her feet. Serena has to hold back a snort of derision; even when bored Lucina appears judicious and regal enough to intimidate an untrained eye.

Any brief flash of amusement Serena may have felt at the nobleman’s obvious discomfort evaporates in an instant. Idly Lucina scratches at her jaw. It’s a habit she picked up in the timeline she bore scars. She used to heave a world-weary sigh and scratch at the ropey tissue, and even now -- at least six lifetimes later -- Lucina still scratches whenever bored or frazzled or deep in thought.

It is the closest Serena has ever seen anyone else come to remembering, and it’s enough to dampen her otherwise good mood.

Lucina is Exalt, and Serena had the courage to step between her and Grima, but she still can’t seem to muster the courage to voice how she really feels. Here she remains at Lucina’s side as one of her Pegasus Knights along with Cynthia. Always near but never in Lucina’s line of sight. At least not in any capacity more than a friend.

Grip tightening around her lance, mouth thinning into a narrow line, Serena glares at the never-ending line of duties sprawling before them, and bitterly counts down the minutes to lunch.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The mere mention of Grima’s name is enough to send a crawling sense of horror gripping the base of Severa’s spine. The others put on a brave face, but none of them remember. They don’t know the amount of times they’ve lost, the number of times the Fell Dragon has won. She can count them on one hand, but even that is too many. Some nights she wakes gasping, clawing back to consciousness from a harrowing dream wherein Grima wins and they’re never reborn again.

Most everybody else seems to trust Robin implicitly, as if it’s simply a matter of fact. No matter how much she tries however, Severa can’t bring herself to fully let her guard down. All too clearly she can recall the dark gleam in Robin’s eyes, the ruinous thunder of her voice as black wings spread across the sky, casting the earth in shadow.

When Robin chooses to sacrifice herself to ensure that Grima will never rise again, the relief hits Severa like a physical blow to the chest. It’s all over. She feels dizzy, and -- while she’s not normally the pious type -- she mutters a prayer of thanks that this particular nightmare has at last come to an end.

It also happens to be the timeline in which Lucina fell head over heels for her father’s tactician. She’s all but inconsolable the night after, when Severa finds her alone while the others celebrate Grima’s defeat. She’s seen Lucina cry several times before, but she can never get used to the sight.

The only thing she can think to do is put an arm around Lucina’s shoulders while Lucina sobs into her hands. Severa hates herself for enjoying the chance to touch her, even at a time like this.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The first time she catches sight of Lucina in the castle at Nohr, Selena freezes, rooted to the spot, so suddenly that Camilla -- walking a step behind -- crashes right into her.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Camilla asks, peering curiously down at her retainer.

But Selena doesn’t hear her. The cacophony has returned in full force, a flood of sound and sensation, melodies of previous lives clamouring in an all-consuming din.

Without a word Selena whirls about on her heel and flees before Lucina can see her. Leather soles slapping loudly against stone, breathing rough in her lungs, she runs until she finds herself back in her chambers, door barred and shut firmly behind her. Her legs shake from more than mere exertion, and she leans both palms on her knees, panting for breath.

It couldn’t be her. It just couldn’t be.

Later at dinner, when Selena emerges from her quarters like a spooked calf, Camilla teases her gently. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I thought I had,” Selena mumbles around the lip of a goblet, taking a sip of wine.

Camilla shoots her a sharp discerning look, going from light and playful to canny and trenchant in a moment. “Oh?” She trails a fingertip down the stem of her cut crystal wine glass. “Care to expand upon that?”

Before Selena can answer, she sees her. Lucina enters the dining hall accompanied by Corrin, the two of them by all appearances chatting amiably. Choking on her wine, Selena coughs into the crook of her arm until she’s red in the face, a hue to rival the colour of her hair.

Instantly Camilla’s gaze turns cold and shrewd as she realises what had happened. “So,” she purrs, leaning forward and resting her chin upon her knuckles, eyeing Selena across the table like a cat watching a canary. “You and the Hero-Princess of legend?”

Still trying to catch her breath, Selena waves a hand furiously in denial. “That’s not-!” She has to pause for another coughing fit before continuing. “I know her. That’s all! I was surprised to see her here.”

Smile broadening Camilla turns in her seat and waves to her sister across the hall. “Corrin! Darling! Why don’t you come and introduce your new friend?”

Selena could have killed her in front of all these people. At least then she would endure capital punishment instead of dying from sheer mortification.

On their approach to the table, Lucina’s gaze roams until finally it lands upon where Selena sits hunched, ducking behind the goblet in the hopes that it would somehow hide her from view.

Years ago the Lucina of this life had disappeared without a word to anyone, simply vanishing, somehow managing to avoid all attempts at being found. As an errant mercenary Selena had ended up in Nohr in the midst of her search, only to wind up entangled in yet another war. This is the very last place she expected to find the lost Ylissan heir.

And after all that searching, Lucina just -- appeared. She looks as though not a single moment had passed. Her royal Ylissan armour gleams bright as the day it was forged. By all appearances she looks ready to attend Court, holding her constituents enthralled with the same innate majesty she had inherited from her father.

Except in this lifetime Lucina has never been Exalt. Not yet. As far as Selena knows Chrom still reigns in Ylisse with Olivia as his wife.

Corrin holds up a hand to gesture towards Lucina standing beside her. “Camilla, I’d like for you to meet --”

“Severa!”

Her old name rings out on Lucina’s tongue. Face bright, Lucina rounds the table, crossing the space between them with long sure strides, and grasps Selena warmly by the shoulder. “It’s so good to see a familiar face!”

Selena stares up at her. Lucina had never remembered one of her other names before. Nobody did. Her head reels with a chorus of possibilities. This must have been why Lucina disappeared. She _remembered --_

“I take it you two know each other?” Corrin remarks. On the other hand Camilla says nothing, watching the scene unfold before her like a well-known refrain.

Selena opens her mouth to answer, but before she can speak Lucina interjects. “She heads my Pegasus Knights along with my sister.” Turning her attention back to Selena she asks. “Is Cynthia here as well?”

For a moment Selena’s face screws up in bewilderment. Cynthia isn’t Lucina’s sister. She hasn’t been since -- and suddenly she understands. The Exalt’s armour. The mixing up of names. This isn’t Lucina at all. At least, not the Lucina of this lifetime.

The past jumbles together in a discordant dizzying chant. What small fleeting fragile hope that had fluttered in Selena’s chest constricts and snuffs out of existence. She has to squash the ugly acidic laughter bubbling up into her mouth; she feels ill. The level look in Camilla’s eyes confirms everything she needs to know.

 _Einherjar_.

The legs of her chair squeal against the stone floor as Selena stands abruptly. “Excuse me, lady Camilla,” she says, tone dull and inflectionless, not looking at Lucina. If she does she’s sure she will be sick. “I’m not feeling well. I take my leave.” Pushing away from the table, she flees.

She always was a coward.

Over the next few weeks she avoids Lucina as much as she can. In the past it’s never been like this. The desire to be near would arch its back and glide beneath the skin like a living thing, and she would invariably, insurmountably find herself by Lucina’s side, desperate for the slightest hints of notice and affection. Like a dog too spineless to even beg for attention. Despite her best efforts, around every corner, behind every shut door Lucina is there. She appears like a phantom, soundless. The worst part is the look of pleasant surprise on her face when she sees Selena, the way her mouth drops open to offer a greeting or a kind remark, only to fade into a wordless bewilderment when Selena turns heel and walks briskly in the opposite direction. Sometimes she thinks she can hear Lucina calling after her, but the sound echoes until Selena can’t pick it apart from the great clangour of the past shadowing her footsteps.

Sometimes, when she’s absolutely confident Lucina won’t know she’s there, Selena watches her from a discrete distance. Through the hard glare of camed windows as Lucina spars in the practice grounds. From the corner of her eye when Lucina sits across the dining hall during meals; she attends politely at Corrin’s side, never speaking, never eating or drinking, always hovering at the edge of conversation, the last person to laugh at jokes, and the first person to stand up to leave when Corrin finishes a meal. Before long she has memorised Lucina’s schedule -- all the better to avoid her, she tells herself, knowing that to be only a half-truth.

It can’t last forever, no matter how much Selena might wish it, and eventually the two of them alongside a small handful of others are left behind at the castle while Corrin takes the rest on a mission abroad. The grounds fall into an eerie silence, broken only by the rush of water through the baths, the syncopatic clang of the blacksmith’s hammer, the occasional crash of porcelain as Felicia mishandles dishes in the kitchens. Selena is ambling back to her empty quarters from the baths -- her first mercifully alone in what feels like eons -- when it happens.

A whole nigh-empty castle, and the one person she runs smack into when she rounds the final corner is Lucina. They collide, and Selena all but bounces off the hard surface of Lucina’s breastplate.

“Watch where you’re going!” She snaps, rubbing her nose indignantly and grimacing.

“I’m sorry.” Lucina’s hands hover uncertainly over her, as though she’s afraid to touch her. She snatches her hands away from Selena and scratches nervously at the side of her face, where the scars once were. For some reason that makes Selena’s blood boil; the Lucina she knew was always liberal with a friendly, reassuring touch.

Glaring, Selena asks sharply, “What are you even doing around here? Aren’t your quarters that way?”

“I -” Lucina shifts, uncomfortable, fiddling with a leather strap holding one of her gauntlets in place. “I was looking for you, actually. I wanted to talk.”

Teeth clenching so hard her jaw began to ache, Selena tugs at the belt of her bathrobe; she wishes she had her armour rather than what she’s wearing now, feeling more vulnerable than ever at being caught unawares after a bath. “If you want someone to talk to, go find Laslow or something. I’ve got better things to do.”

That of course is a lie. All she had been planning to do this evening was curl up with a novel of questionable taste, and perhaps get a decent night’s sleep for a change.

Brushing by Lucina, trying her damndest not to focus too much on her stricken expression, Selena heads towards her room, just in sight down the hallway.

“Wait -! Please, Severa -” Lucina’s grasp on her arm sends a shock running through her not unlike the lightning magic that so frequently splinters across battlefields.

She shrugs Lucina’s hand off and whirls around. “Don’t call me that!” She spits, crossing her arms, defensive.

A fleeting hurt look washes across Lucina’s features, only to be replaced by a scowl of puzzled frustration. “Why are you avoiding me? You’ve never been like this.”

Lucina’s wrong. Of course she’s always been like this. A true coward at heart, prone to fits of self-doubt and loathing in equal measure. Turning away once more, Selena mutters gruffly, “Just-! Leave me alone. I don’t want to see you.”

There’s a sudden panic blooming in Lucina’s voice when she speaks, a timbre Selena hasn’t heard for at least two lifetimes, when Robin died. “No, please don’t -! I miss you! And -!” Her voice cracks mid-sentence, swooping to a pitch belly-deep and raspy. “And I feel so alone. I don’t know why I’m here. Nobody will explain it to me. Nobody except Corrin talks to me, and you - you’re -”

It’s too much. The fracas of sound crashes like cymbals, like swords against bucklers, like the sweep of the Fell Dragon’s wings flattening mountaintops, laying waste to armies. She’s almost at her door, and Lucina is choking on tears, and they’re not much more than children with battlescars, wounds they wear on the soul. Before she can stop herself Selena whips around, yanking down on fistfuls of the cloak draped across Lucina’s neck.

This isn’t how her first kiss with Lucina was supposed to be. There should have been a sunset. There should have been clear skies and flowers, and a tender lacing of fingers -- not a bruising meeting of mouths, not the salt of tears and panic. Lucina stiffens in shock, but whatever expression that’s painting her face in broad lurid hues Selena can’t see; she has closed her eyes, squeezing them shut. For gods only know what reason though, Lucina doesn’t draw back.

Wrenching them apart, Selena gasps, “You’re not real.”

There’s a furrow in Lucina’s brow, and the way she’s looking down at her makes Selena’s hands curl into fists, knuckles scraping the burnished plate of Lucina’s armour. “What do you mean?”

“Youre. Not. Real.” Selena repeats again for her own sake this time, because Lucina certainly feels real. She’s warm and close, far too close; her palms rest gently atop Selena’s shoulders as if to push her away. When instead she strokes one gauntleted thumb over the hollow of her collarbone, Selena flinches. Lucina might as well have slapped her. “The real you is gone.”

“Gone where?” Lucina asks.

Selena knows she must have imagined the breathless quality of Lucina’s words; she couldn’t dare to hope for reciprocation of any sort.

“Gods, I don’t know.” She sighs, and lets her forehead drop to Lucina’s chest, to hide her face if nothing else. Looking at Lucina right now is dangerous. It hurts.

She wishes she did know where this world’s Lucina was. Above all else, she wishes this. She would have finally tracked her down, followed her to the ends of the earth and back. Anything but be here, now, in this moment.

One of Lucina’s hands moves to beneath Selena’s chin, tenderly tilts her face up despite the reluctance she met. “You should have told me.”

Selena blinks at her dumbly. “What?”

“That this was what you wanted.” Lucina’s gaze roves, heavy, half-lidded, to Selena’s mouth, and her thumb strokes across the bottom lip there, sharp with the scent of leather and steel. “You should have told me.”

Any response Selena could have formulated never comes, speech dancing just beyond her grasp as Lucina sways forward, her other hand slipping to the back of Selena’s neck through a curtain of hair still stained a damp burgundy from her recent bath, uncharacteristically allowed to fall loose and untethered. In a hundred lifetimes Selena never could have dreamed Lucina would have looked at her like she looked at her now -- keen and wanting.

“Can I kiss you again?” Lucina murmurs.

She shouldn’t. They shouldn’t. This is Lucina’s image, her shadow, a conjured wisp of the real thing like a shade animated and given voice only when plied with troughs of lamb’s blood.

She shouldn’t, but Selena nods.

In the time it takes for them to stumble into her nearby room, Selena learns that Lucina is well and truly a terrible kisser -- all enthusiasm and no tact. It’s wet; it’s messy; Lucina uses too much tongue and cranes Selena’s neck back too far. Yet for all that it feels like the most real part about a situation Selena had otherwise only ever imagined for so many years. She finds herself grounded by it, pulling Lucina back in for more every time they pause.

There’s altogether too much clothing between them. Outside the cool evening air crackles against the windows, but Lucina is nipping at her ear and unbelting her robe, and the large room feels much too warm. When Selena’s back nudges the door behind her, the cold polished grain of the wood against her skin sends a shiver running through her.

Selena is sure she’s endured whole lifetimes shorter than the age it takes for them to rid Lucina of all that armour. It falls to the ground in pieces, clattering in a sharp clank of buckles, mingling with muttered curses as she tugs impatiently at one gauntlet while Lucina’s mouth continues to brand her neck with teeth. She wants to urge Lucina on, wants to get at all of her all at once, but Selena is afraid to speak, afraid that the din of her past lives will return in full force, voices and memories like a wind, words burning in the throat like a hammer ringing bright at a forge. Little sounds escape her, rising in her throat in spite of herself, but she welds the words away.

Instead she rushes with Lucina’s tassets, fingers fumbling at the clasps with mounting irritation. A sharp inhalation as she finally removes them and brings her hands around to smooth down Lucina’s waist. Selena unties the drawstring of Lucina’s trousers, pushing them down, fingers coming to rest at the divot of her hips, and Lucina’s breathing staggers.

Lucina pulls back just enough to kiss her. With an avid sort of fascination Selena studies the furrow in Lucina’s brow, a sharp frown between her eyes as if from intense concentration. Every gasp from Lucina feels earned, each short hot burst of air against her lips a thrill. Selena is hellbent on wringing sounds from Lucina that she knows she’ll play and replay in her mind for years to come.

Soon Lucina is pushing the robe down, and Selena is lifting the arming doublet sewn with gussets of chainmail over Lucina’s head to cast it aside. There’s very little finesse to the way Selena pulls Lucina closer by the shoulders, or the way Lucina slots her thigh between Selena’s legs. Selena only murmurs a silent prayer of thanks that she’d removed Lucina’s cuisses moments before, though her calves remain clad in greaves.

Lucina is far softer than Selena could have anticipated. Somehow she’s always imagined Lucina to be comprised entirely of hard angles, turning every bladed edge of herself outward towards a world that had never been particularly gentle or kind. But here and now she’s smooth, and warm, and -- beneath all that -- firm. Her hands come to rest at the curve of Selena’s waist, blunt nails carefully demandingly scratching against skin, and every thought of Lucina being soft flees as Selena twitches with a sharp gasp.

Pushing Lucina’s hair back, Selena presses a series of quick open-mouthed kisses to Lucina’s neck. She has to stifle a whimper when Lucina rolls their hips together, yet even when she bites down where Lucina’s neck and shoulder meet, the sound that escapes her is loud enough Selena is grateful most of the castle’s usual inhabitants have gone.

Hissing wordlessly near Selena’s ear, Lucina slowly deliberately shifts against her again. She drags her bare thigh, using her grip on Selena’s waist to build up a rhythm that has Selena mouthing a desperate line across Lucina’s collarbone.

Where Selena feels like she’s drowning, swept up in the current, there’s far too much control in Lucina’s movements. Her breathing has evened out against Selena’s neck, only occasionally swooping low in her chest when she presses herself close enough that their chests draw together. But when Selena reaches down, fingers tentatively sliding along the slick heat between Lucina’s legs, Lucina groans -- a surprisingly high note in her throat -- and one of her hands slaps against the door behind Selena to keep herself steady.

It’s artless the way Selena’s fingers slip continually across Lucina’s clit before she -- hesitating as Lucina shifts her stance slightly to accommodate her -- pushes two fingers inside.

Lucina’s breathing has grown ragged, her remaining hand at Selena’s waist clutching her like a lifeline. Selena gives an experimental press, and in return she receives a corresponding jerk of Lucina’s hips, the motion grinding her thigh against where Selena is soaking wet.

Lucina’s hand moves down from her waist to between Selena’s legs, fitting against her, and with a cry Selena’s hips buck. At any other time she would have been embarrassed by how loud she’s being, but Lucina’s choking back an involuntary moan, and they’re moving together in counterpoint, and Selena can’t bring herself to give a single damn.

It takes Selena by surprise when she comes. Sneaking up on her, quick, leaving her panting and spent, clawing at Lucina’s shoulderblades with her free hand. When it’s over, she is shivering and Lucina is riding out the last vestiges of her own orgasm on Selena’s fingers.

Still tense, Selena can feel the hair sticking to the back of her neck, and Lucina’s arm trembling where it holds her up against the door, forearm pressing up on Selena’s shoulder. For a few long moments the only sound is the hard rasp of their lungs as they catch their breath, leaning against one another.

Lucina is the first to move, tilting her head down to kiss Selena. It’s just as messy and uncoordinated as before, but for the fact that now it’s slow, languid. Selena shudders when Lucina finally withdraws her hand from between her legs.

“Do you-” Lucina swallows, then mumbles, “Do you want to adjourn to the bed?”

Immediately Selena stiffens.

She hadn’t thought beyond the moment. This was supposed to be a one-time occurrence, and Lucina wasn’t supposed to have asked for a round two.

“Hey,” Lucina says gently, and the look in her eyes, the burr in her voice, is enough to make Selena inhale past a lump in her throat. “None of that. If you want to, just say the word and I’ll go.”

“No, I -” Selena’s brows draw down in an anxious scowl. She closes her eyes, breathes deeply, then opens them again. There is a certainty in her voice when she says, “I want to.”

Lucina takes her hand from the door and trails it along Selena’s jaw, tracing her chin, the space beneath her lower lip. “You sure?”

Dazed at the tender contact, Selena nods. Lucina smiles briefly, almost hesitantly, something crossing her face like a shadow of their conversation not long before they decided to pull off each other’s clothes.

Any coherent thought in Selena’s head scatters when Lucina makes as if to step away, but instead almost trips. She’s still clad in greaves and her trousers are tangled around her knees. Clearing her throat, Lucina bends over to finish undressing completely. Dark hair slips over Lucina’s shoulders in coils as she reaches to unhook the metal plates and kick her feet free.

Flushing at the sudden awkward atmosphere Selena snatches up her robe from the floor, hastily wiping her hand off on the fabric. She’ll clean it later, she tells herself as she balls it up and clutches it to her chest like the world’s most inadequate shield.

Lucina studies her before crossing to sit on the edge of the bed. The dim candle casts a warm glow across Lucina’s face, washing the planes of her body in a haze that’s low and golden and lambent. Without saying anything, Lucina holds out her hand, an inquiring, inviting gesture. Selena glances down at the robe in her arms before dropping it on the floor beside Lucina’s armour and crossing the room. When she’s near enough, Lucina gently takes her by the hand and pulls her forward so that Selena is standing before her. There, she toys with Selena’s fingers, and though her expression is soft there’s an outline of contemplation as well.

“Was that- I mean -” Lucina trails off, “-your first time?”

It’s a reasonable enough question. They’d never spoken about their love lives before, and in the past whenever anyone else brought the topic up, Selena was always quick to dodge any pointed questions with the kind of waspish retorts she had become known for.

Still Selena snorts, and it’s a rough sound in a moment that is otherwise soft and mild. “Gods, no. Just -”

And here she pauses, reluctant to tilt her hand and reveal too much. Technically yes -- in this lifetime. In others though, definitely not. Lucina’s still playing with her fingers, charting Selena’s palms with her fingertips, and Selena is distracted by the urge to run her hands through the waves of Lucina’s dark hair.

With a sigh, she buries her hands into Lucina's hair, allowing herself to indulge in the feeling as she cards through dark strands. “Can we not talk about that? I just - I want to enjoy this while we can.”

Lucina nods. Gripping Lucina’s hair at the base of her skull, Selena pulls her back lightly, just enough to lean down and kiss her. Lucina goes willingly, eyes sliding shut as her hands smooth up Selena’s thighs, to her waist, to the sweep of her ribcage.

When they stop there, lingering, almost questioning, Selena breaks away and breathes, “Please touch me again.”

Selena draws in a lungful of air when Lucina complies, looking up at her from her place on the bed, hands on Selena’s breasts, pupils blown, eyes half-lidded. One hand slips around to Selena’s back, pressing her that last step closer so that she stumbles against the bedframe and her knees sink down onto the mattress on either side of Lucina.

If someone had told Selena two weeks ago that she’d be straddling Lucina naked, she would’ve told them to douse their head in ice water.

Lucina is forward as well, far more forward than she ever was in Selena’s imagination -- excepting a very few, very specific daydreams that involved Lucina bloodied and emboldened and fresh from the battlefield. Selena steadies herself with her hands at Lucina’s shoulder as Lucina leans forward to mouth at her breast. Gauging her reaction, Lucina gives an experimental scrape of her teeth.

Selena hisses, “Bit hard there.”

“Sorry.” Lucina plants an apologetic kiss to Selena’s sternum, setting her mouth to wandering.

Every so often Selena gives Lucina’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze, but when Lucina runs her hand along her inner thigh, Selena jerks reflexively and almost slips off the mattress.

With a bark of startled laughter, Lucina catches her, pulling Selena further onto the bed where they fall to their sides and face one another. “We don’t have to -” Lucina starts, but Selena shakes her head.

“It tickled. That’s all,” she insists, honest. To drive her point home, she trills her fingertips along Lucina’s flank, but rather than squirm Lucina just grins.

“Oh, you’ll need to do better than that,” Lucina teases as she rolls them over so that she’s perched on all fours over Selena.

“No tickling!” Selena yelps, crossing her arms and flinching for what she’s sure will be an onslaught. She remembers Cynthia as her sister all too well. She knows the drill.

Instead Lucina just laughs and swoops down to kiss Selena’s scrunched up nose. “Why, Severa! I dare say you’re a terrible hypocrite!”

It is, Selena realises, the first time she can recall ever laughing during sex. Selena doesn’t even bother correcting Lucina about her name. It’s a mixture of the deeper truth of Lucina’s words and the fact that Lucina has started kissing her neck again in earnest, that sobers Selena up like a splash of cold briny water.

She grips Lucina’s hips, wanting to pull her closer but also wanting something to hold onto, to distract herself from the reality of just how deeply that hypocrisy runs. Before she can do so however, Lucina is moving down as much with her hands as with her mouth, still grinning, raffish and slightly wicked, like she knows a secret nobody else does, like she’s peeked behind the curtains and seen someone undressing.

Her grip tightens and her pace increases, moving a hand between Selena’s legs and sucking hard on her breast. She watches the way Selena moves with dark eyes, and when Lucina starts to thrust too quickly, Selena hisses, “Slow down. It isn’t a race.”

Blinking up at her, startled, Lucina stops completely before slowly building her up again. All too soon the tempo is back to its feverish heights, but at this point Lucina’s mouth is leaving bruises across her chest and Selena is too aroused to bring herself to care.

“Was that slow enough?” Lucina asks after Selena comes again, watching her intently.

“Not really, no.” Selena answers bluntly as she catches her breath.

She is expecting to feel guilty at being so brusque, but instead her eyes widen in surprise when Lucina boldly takes her hand and guides it down. “Show me.”

Snatching her hand away, Selena clears her throat and pushes at one of Lucina’s shoulders. “Here. Just -” she switches their positions so that Lucina is lying back on the sheets. “I want to try something.”

When she nips along the skin of Lucina’s naval, fingers playing in the dip where pelvis meets thigh, Lucina starts. “What are you doing?” she asks, peering down at where Selena is running her tongue against the ridge of her hipbone.

Selena stops and looks up to rest her chin on her palm. The bed is large enough to accommodate them both, but from here Selena’s feet dangle over the far edge. “I was going to use my mouth and fingers.”

Her thumb is stroking, soothing, at Lucina’s waist, and she’s settled between Lucina’s legs as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, even though her heart is racing. If she were being honest with herself, she’d been fantasising about doing this to Lucina for an embarrassing length of time.

After a moment of consideration, Lucina nods, letting her head fall back to the mattress, just short of the array of cushions leaning against the carved wooden headboard. “Alright.”

Selena ducks her head, then mumbles to herself, “Hang on,” before clambering over to the edge of the mattress and reaching for the small bedside table there. Fishing through one of the drawers, she emerges with a band and begins to tie her hair back into a hasty bundle at the base of her neck.

“Better,” she proclaims, then drops a quick kiss to the corner of Lucina’s mouth before settling herself between Lucina’s legs once more.  

When she first starts, tongue broad and flat against her, Lucina lets loose a noise, and her thighs clench. Immediately Selena pulls back, "Stop?"

Lucina blinks up at the ceiling. Her throat bobs as she swallows past the dryness there, and she shakes her head. "No. Keep going."

Nibbling along Lucina’s inner thigh before doing so, Selena continues. She’s slow. She’s careful. She listens to the timbre of every hitch in Lucina’s breath, every one of Lucina’s mewling gasps, altering tactics accordingly, keeping Lucina riding a constant edge that has her curling her hand in Selena’s bound hair and tugging her closer. Where not long before Lucina kept her legs only just wide enough for Selena to lie between them, now they splay open, the heel of one foot digging into Selena’s back. Some of Selena’s hair falls along her cheeks from where Lucina has pulled it free from its tie, and in Lucina’s other hand the sheets spill between her clenched fingers. Selena drinks in the sounds she’s making, intent on wringing out as many as she can.

Lucina rocks her hips impatiently to the slow rhythm Selena has set, lower back arching in an attempt to increase contact. At that, Selena pauses, keeping her tongue stationary against her until Lucina whines, the base of her heel twitching against Selena’s back. She looks up to find Lucina’s eyes screwed shut, biting at her lower lip, skin rosy and flushed.

Softly, slowly, she begins to build up pressure again, but every time Lucina throws her head back, breath stuttering in her chest, Selena stops.

The fifth time this happens, Lucina yanks at Selena’s hair and glares. “Why aren’t you -?”

“I told you: it’s not a race, Your Highness.” Selena allows herself a smirk and nips at Lucina’s inner thigh.

A low growl, and Lucina’s eyes narrow. “Don’t call me that. Not when we’re like this.”

Selena can’t stop the shiver that runs through her at the sound of that growl. “Alright,” she breathes, turning back to the task at hand. “Just a few more. I promise.”

She starts up again, and before long Lucina’s chest is heaving. Her hips move freely with the pace Selena has set, each gasp in time with the swipe of Selena’s tongue. Every time she pauses, Lucina’s hand strokes restlessly over Selena’s head and cheek until Selena starts up again. When Lucina’s fingers start to tremble, shaking as they card through red hair -- which has become such a tousled mess Selena wonders why she even bothered with a tie in the first place -- Selena decides it has been long enough.

She pauses, and for a moment Lucina makes a noise close to snarl until Selena shifts on one elbow to bring her hand up and slip two fingers inside. Lucina comes quickly after that, loudly, and through it all Selena closes her eyes to better memorise the subtle inflections in Lucina’s voice.

When it’s over, she sits up to find that Lucina has flung an arm over her face, panting up at the ceiling, her skin bearing a slight sheen. “You need to teach me how to do that.”

That is probably the last thing Selena expected her to say. Laughing softly, she crawls up until the length of their bodies are pressed snugly against one another. She’s not nearly as tall or as heavy as Lucina, but she still balances most of her weight on her forearms, allowing herself to sink down. She wipes her mouth and chin off with the back of one hand before kissing Lucina soundly, languidly.

Lucina’s technique still needs to be worked on, but for now Selena can’t think of anything more fitting.

Rolling them onto their side, Lucina wraps her arms around Selena and curls herself up around her until she’s nuzzling the top of Selena’s head and murmuring contentedly. Initially Selena stiffens; she can’t recall anyone being quite so clingy in her experience, but after a few moments she realises that snuggles are inevitable and sighs, relinquishing herself to her fate.

It could be worse, Selena finds herself thinking with wry amusement, knowing all too well that she secretly relished this closeness -- though she would never admit it aloud. Idly she allows her hand to trail across Lucina’s flank. They’re going to get cold soon, lying atop the covers as they are, but for now Lucina’s bare skin is warm, and she can’t bring herself to move.

“What happened to teaching you?” Selena prods along Lucina’s side and is just as galled as before that Lucina shows absolutely no sign of being ticklish.

“In a minute,” Lucina yawns into Selena’s hair. “Maybe two minutes.” She squirms herself even closer. “You really should have told me sooner. We could have been doing this for years.”

At that Selena’s hand falters. Rushing through the words, she admits, “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Every time.”

She can feel Lucina’s face scrunch up into a puzzled frown as she mumbles. “Every time?”

“ _Always._ I meant -- always. That’s all.” Selena lies.

“Mmm.” Lucina hums wordlessly, and Selena can tell from the way her muscles are relaxing that Lucina is swiftly falling asleep. “Then, next time. Whatever that means.”

 _Next time_ , Selena thinks. Lucina has started to snore lightly, near imperceptibly, soft puffs of air with each easy rise and fall of her chest. There’s absolutely no chance that this memory will cross over into the next lifetime; an Einherjar couldn’t possibly carry a refrain between lives. She would have to start this whole process over, and she couldn’t even presume that Lucina would react the same way again. After all, this was just an echo.

Eyelids drooping, Selena feels herself nodding off. On the bedside table, the candle flickers, wavers, splutters out with an inaudible hiss.

_Next time._

 

* * *

* * *

 

They’re not much more than children, and somehow Lucina looks as regal as ever. The band of engraven gold glints atop her crown of long dark tangled hair, and already she’s taller than most their age. Severa feels like the lanky gormless teen that she is, fidgeting nervously at the thought of meeting Lucina for the first time in this life -- the events of their last encounter hiss like an ember doused in water, full of steam and sparks that billow and echo through the night.

In the past Lucina was almost always reserved upon their first meetings, a sombre, dark-eyed child with the weight of worlds riding her narrow shoulders. This time however upon seeing Severa her gaze widens until the emblem gleams like a mote in one eye. It’s too much to hope for any sign of recognition -- the very thought makes her chest ache. Severa bows, the customary greeting for royalty, but then Lucina is darting forward and seizing her hands, expression alight with joy.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” she says, and there’s a quality to her voice, to the way she turns Severa’s hands over in her own, clasping them together. “You know -- it’s strange. I feel like we’ve already met.”

Severa blinks, then laughs softly, breathlessly, a single note more like a gasp or a sigh. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”


End file.
